If 6 Was 9
by starfish422
Summary: Slash: Pre-Deep Dish AU. College freshman Jack Charles is a transplanted Californian surviving his first winter in Boston. When he makes a new friend in a similar situation, it changes them both in ways they never expected. Language, sexuality.


**So...surprise! :) I've been holding this story in reserve for close to a year now; it was written as one of my stories for the Support Stacie auction that took place in September 2009. It was purchased by the ****absolutely lovely and generous **_**dellaterra**_**. There are several reasons why it hasn't been posted until now, and I'll explain more at the end, but the important thing to remember is that this is pre-Deep Dish and it is **_**very alternate universe**_**. When I was deciding on the title of the story, I chose the name of the Jimi Hendrix song, If 6 Was 9, because I thought, **_**Only in a world where six could be nine, could this happen. **_

**I hope you enjoy. **

-o-

The truth is, I've never been a fan of snow.

When I left Fresno for Massachusetts, I had no idea what I was in for. Massachusetts gets snow – a fucking lot of snow, in fact. I knew they got a lot of snow; but knowing it academically, and understanding it firsthand are two different things. Like, you can say, "Wow, an elephant must weigh a lot." But unless you're actually holding up that elephant, you have no fucking idea.

What I didn't realize about snow was that it's heavy. Not heavy like an elephant, of course; but it's nothing like that pretty, light-as-air stuff they used to use to decorate the holiday displays at Sears.

The first skiff of snow – do you know that word, 'skiff'? I didn't know it until I moved to Massachusetts – the first skiff of snow was beautiful. It was late November and the inch of white stuff I woke up to that morning was gorgeous. It _was_ the fluffy, Sears-display stuff. I gazed all around me in wonder that morning as I made my way from my dorm to class.

Two weeks later we got our first big snowstorm. It closed down all of Boston and Cambridge – most of the Northeast, in fact – and, honestly, that was kind of exciting. It was fun to have an enforced day or two off from school. We had snowball fights and watched movies and enjoyed the excuse to goof off.

By mid-February, though, when Boston was in the grips of its _tenth_ major storm of the year...yeah, it's safe to say that I was _over it_ at that point. I was fucking sick of having to bundle up in boots, a winter coat, mittens, hat, scarf, the works, every fucking time I wanted to venture outdoors. I seriously missed being able to just slip into some sandals or flip flops to bum around in outside. Nobody _bums around_ outside in Boston in February. They scurry – heads bent as they fight to keep out the biting wind that whips around the maze of buildings on the Harvard campus; walking as fast as possible, praying for that golden moment of relief when they abandon the bitter cold for the warmth of a heated building. They trudge – hands balled into fists in their puffy Gore-Tex mittens, resignedly wading through knee-deep snow; guessing where the sidewalks would be if they weren't covered in the tightly-packed remnants of the past six snowstorms; climbing over deep banks to catch the bus.

That winter, I scurried and trudged along with everyone else. I thought myself rather hard done by, and didn't know how anyone survived this change in seasons year after year. I wondered why I'd been so stubborn, so insistent that _Harvard_ was the only school for me.

I had one bright spot in my life that first winter – a fellow Californian, a ray of sunshine named Ashton Byrne. When one of the guys in my Social Analysis class found out I was from California, he told me I should meet Ashton, as he was the only other Californian in my dorm and was horribly homesick. I told my classmate I wasn't interested in babysitting; but to be honest, I had wondered whether talking to someone from home might ease some of my homesickness as well – at the very least, we could commiserate. I asked around back at the dorm, and as it turned out, he lived on the same floor as me. I knocked on his door; it swung open and there stood a tall, black man with a shaved head, whose shoulders were at least twice the width of mine. I asked, "Are you Ashton?"

"No," he replied. "I'm Shawn." He smiled warmly and held out his hand. "Ashton's my roommate."

"Jack Charles," I said, returning his smile and shaking his hand.

"I've seen you around," he said. "You live on this floor, right?"

"Right. One of my classmates told me Ashton's from California?" He nodded curiously. "Would you…" I felt weird, like I was assuming that just because we came from the same state we'd get along. Or that Ashton would even care that I was from California. "Could you please just tell him, Jack from Fresno is in room 435."

"Sure," Shawn replied. "I'll leave him a note."

"Thanks. See you around." I smiled again and headed back to my room to work on a paper.

Two hours later there was a knock on my door. I jumped up from my desk to answer the door, and there he stood. He was slim, maybe four inches shorter than me, with shaggy blond hair and brown eyes. And – damn – he was gorgeous.

"Jack?" he asked, a little breathlessly, as though he had run from his room.

"Yeah," I grinned. "You must be Ashton." I put my hand out and he shook it enthusiastically.

"I'm so glad to meet you!" he said. "You're from Fresno?" I nodded, gesturing to invite him in. I grabbed a couple of sodas from the mini-fridge in my room and offered him one. He sat on my desk chair and I flopped on my bed, and he told me about himself. I thought I was having trouble adjusting; but Ashton was actually considering switching schools to something closer to home. He was from Malibu, and when he lived in California, he surfed, every day of the year. Here, he could barely stand to go outside. It was as much culture shock for him as it was distance and weather.

I listened and watched him as he spoke about his life in California. He was soft-spoken, but when he talked about surfing he became animated. I had to admit to him that the one time I'd tried surfing had been a dismal failure; but rather than laughing at me, he asked me what I did like to do. When I told him I was into mountain biking in the two national parks east of Fresno, he asked questions and listened to me as eagerly as if I _was_ talking about surfing. He suggested that, once we were both back in California at the end of the term, he would take me surfing and I could take him mountain biking. I readily agreed, already feeling an irresistible draw to this friendly, charismatic boy.

From that day, we were nearly inseparable. He was taking a general arts degree, I was an Econ major, so we had no classes together; but we spent our evenings studying in tandem or going out to the bars that would allow college kids in to dance but not drink. Right off the bat, I was open with him about being gay; and he wasn't threatened – didn't even seem the least bit phased by it. He went with me to the gay bars I wanted to check out, politely and good-naturedly declining the offers he got…and he got a _lot_ of offers. I went to see bands he wanted to see. We became best friends, and the best part was that when the spring term was up and we each went back to California, we would travel to see each other as often as we could. Usually every other weekend one of us was travelling to see the other. It was nearly a four-hour drive, but neither of us cared about that. Our parents met, and grew to be friends as well. And when we headed back to Harvard in the fall, we had opted to room in the dorms again, to take advantage of the meal plan; but this year we roomed together. Our parents were happy we had gotten to be such good friends, because it made them feel reassured that each of us was looking out for each other.

It was a great friendship.

Our sophomore year, we made a pact that we wouldn't hibernate indoors all winter; that we would get out in the snow and make the best of living in the Northeast while it lasted. We made plans to go sledding, skiing, and even try skating. We started with skating, since the indoor arenas had public skating. That was interesting, to say the least. We had both rollerbladed before; we thought, how different could it possibly be? Turns out, _very_. We both decided skating was not for us.

Sledding was a lot more fun. We went the afternoon after the first big snowstorm. Despite getting a face full of snow on my first trip down the hill – word of advice, don't offer to sit in the front – we went up and down that hill more times than I could count. Of course, that night we both collapsed into bed, absolutely exhausted; but sledding was something we did a lot more of, over the rest of our college career.

But of the winter sports we tried, our hands-down favorite was downhill skiing. We both took to it like ducks to water, and we loved it. We did it enough that it was less expensive to buy our own skis, boots and poles, rather than renting equipment each time. There was a shuttle bus that went every Sunday morning from the Harvard campus, to one of the numerous area ski hills within a two-hour drive. Ashton and I were on that bus nearly every Sunday, and we had a fucking blast all winter long.

Junior year, things were a little different. We were still best friends; we still roomed together, this time in a small apartment just off campus. We still had plans to go skiing and sledding as often as possible. But that was before Halloween.

On Halloween, we went to a party thrown by some of the guys from our old dorm. It was huge and noisy, and we had a great time. We saw people we hadn't run into on campus since coming back in September, and as usual, Ashton and I were pretty much glued to each other's sides…until sometime around midnight.

I was talking to my freshman-year roommate, catching up on what we'd each done over the summer, when I turned to Ashton to ask him something. He didn't hear me; his eyes were locked on some point far across the room. I finished up my conversation with Eric, then turned to Ashton. "Hey," I nudged him. "Ashton?"

He blinked and looked at me. "I'm sorry – what?"

I laughed at him. "Maybe you've had enough to drink," I suggested. "You're passing out on your feet."

"I've had three," he contradicted, looking back across the room. I followed his gaze, trying to figure out whom or what had grabbed his attention; but it was too crowded. I couldn't distinguish any one thing as particularly noteworthy.

"What are you looking at?" I finally asked him.

"Her," he said. "Tall, long reddish hair, high cheekbones. She's wearing a green sweater and blue jeans." He gazed a moment longer. "Who _is_ she?"

My eyes finally alighted on the woman he was talking about. "Oh yeah," I said. "You know who she is – I don't know what she's taking but she works at Widener Library." I searched my memory for her name, but in vain. She stuck in my mind because of her tattoos – a chain of ivy and daisies around one wrist, and three purple irises that extended from her ankle to her knee on one leg.

I looked at Ashton and he was still gazing, wide-eyed at her. Suddenly, he jerked and turned his head away quickly. "Fuck, she looked at me," he said.

"Oh no," I teased in a quietly dramatic voice. "She _looked_ at you!"

"Fuck off," he whispered through gritted teeth. "Is she looking?" I started to turn back in her direction and he grabbed my arm. "Well, don't _look_ at her."

I had never seen Ashton so unglued. I could only smirk in amusement as I said, "Okay, do you want me to see if she's looking, or do you want me to not look at her? I'm reasonably certain I can only do one of the two."

"Smartass," he mumbled. "Look surreptitiously."

I rolled my eyes, but turned slowly and casually before lifting my eyes to where she'd been standing. She was no longer there.

"Uh, problem," I said, scanning the room. "She's gone."

"What?" he said, spinning to look. Before his half-turn was complete, she appeared at his elbow.

"Hi," she said to us. "Jack, right?" she asked me.

"Yeah," I smiled, extending my hand. "I know I've seen you, but I'm sorry, I can't remember your name…"

"It's JJ," she replied with a smile; then she looked at Ashton, who was studying the laces of his shoes. "And your friend…?" she asked.

I nudged him, and he finally looked up, his face flaming. "Ashton," I supplied when he seemed unable to speak. "Ashton, this is JJ. She works at…it's Widener Library, isn't it, JJ?" I asked – as if I didn't know.

"Yep," she grinned, "that's me. Library sciences major at Simmons."

"And yet, not once have I seen your hair up in a bun," I joked.

"Oh, but I have this pair of glasses that I can push low on my nose," she replied, moving easily into the spirit of the joke. "I glare over them when the conversation reaches an unacceptable volume."

"I'm sure you're very intimidating," I smirked. She had sparkling green eyes and, like us, had forgone a Halloween costume in favor of street clothes. She was lovely, very charming and quick-witted, and I could see why Ashton would be attracted to her.

Unfortunately, Ashton hadn't said a word, not even hello, choosing instead to stare dumbly at the floor while I carried the conversation with JJ. She looked at him wistfully several times, even directing a couple of the questions his way; I eventually answered them when the silence became uncomfortable. Soon, JJ's friend came to grab her arm and drag her away to another room. I waved, and she said, "Nice to meet you. Bye, Ashton." He finally looked at her, a look of complete mortification. She returned his gaze with disappointment and confusion before her friend pulled her off through the crowd.

When she was out of earshot, I turned to him and said, "Dude – what the fuck was that?" He didn't speak. "I mean, seriously – she came to you! And you were rude! Nice first impression," I chided. He looked up, his face panged with remorse for his missed opportunity. "What happened to you?" I asked, a bit more gently. "You're not shy. You're…you're Ashton. You're the one who puts everyone at ease."

"I don't know, man," he finally said, exhaling a long breath and rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know what happened; all of a sudden she was, like, right there, y'know? And I was, like, 'Fuck, she's even more beautiful up close.' And I just…couldn't think of a single thing to say."

I stared at him, unable to believe this was coming from him. I mean, he wasn't a manwhore or anything, but yeah, he definitely picked up some casual sex here and there, much as I did. We didn't discuss our sex lives in detail, but we _did_ live together. I knew when he had someone home and he knew when I did. We had decided on some ground rules when we got our own apartment, mainly to do with common areas and acceptable noise levels, and both of us took care to respect those rules. Nevertheless, I knew enough about the frequency of overnight guests in his room that I wasn't worried about him falling too far to either end of the scale – manwhore or monk.

Simply stated, I had reason to believe that he didn't have great difficulty talking to women, unless he was asking them home telepathically.

But this thing that had happened with JJ – I had no idea what to make of it. It was so far out of character for him that I could only pin down as being the result of something I had yet to witness from him: an actual, serious crush. Emotions were at play for him. And if I had to bet, I'd have put money down that JJ was interested too.

Ashton's face was grey; he suddenly looked exhausted. "Can we go home, please?" he asked quietly.

"Of course," I answered. "You've got the keys." He handed them over to me, as I was the designated driver for the night; then he turned and headed for the door, setting his unfinished beer on a table as we made our way through the crowd.

He didn't say a word in the car on the way home, staring out the window morosely. At the apartment, I puttered around in the living room, putting books away as I listened to him in the kitchen filling a glass of water. He downed it and then stood in the kitchen door watching me. Finally he said, "I think I'm going to go to bed."

I looked up. I had never seen Ashton truly downhearted before. I mean, from the first time I met him, we started to bond over both being Californians, which was an immediate boost for the low spirits he'd been suffering; and from that time on we had each other. He was his usual self – friendly and outgoing, but in a gentle way that put others at ease. I wasn't used to him having a need I couldn't fill for him…aside from one very obvious one, and he did fine managing that on his own.

Now he needed something, and there was nothing I could do for him. And something in me started to ache, just a little bit. "Okay," I mumbled.

Ashton stood for a moment longer, nodding slightly. "Okay," he repeated.

He started to amble to his bedroom, but I stopped him, stepping quickly in front of him. He looked up at me, mild surprise coloring his features. I didn't say anything, just stepped forward and embraced him. It seemed like the right thing to do, you know? When I lived at home, and even after I'd left and would visit my parents, if I was feeling bummed out or disappointed about something, my mom always knew that a hug would make me feel better. I was never too old or too grown-up to need affection and understanding. I hoped he would feel the same way.

He stiffened for a second, but quickly his body relaxed and his arms reached around me. We didn't move or speak for a moment as we held the embrace. Finally I patted his back and we each released the other, stepping back to face each other again. "I'm sorry," I said simply. And he knew. He knew I was offering my support after he'd had a shithole night.

He gave me a tiny smile, then nodded and said, "Thanks, Jack." I stepped aside and he continued for his bedroom.

He didn't emerge from his room till sometime after noon the next day. I doubted he'd been sleeping all that time, as I knew he simply wasn't a person who needed _that_ much sleep. I looked up from the movie I was watching when he came into the living room. "Hey," I said. "You're up."

"I've been awake for a while," he admitted, confirming my suspicions. "I've just been thinking."

"How are you doing this morning?" I asked cautiously.

"Okay," he replied honestly. "I really owe you for last night; I know guys don't…hug…that much. Jesus, see? I had trouble even saying the word. But I think…it doesn't mean we don't _need_ it. Sometimes I think people expect so much from us. 'Be a man.' Like you're not allowed to show that you have feelings or you're not allowed to need affection." I nodded slowly, understanding exactly what he meant. Especially for those of us who went away to college when we were still, essentially, kids.

He flopped on the couch beside me. "I know you're not 'most guys', though, Jack." He hesitated for a moment. "Thanks…for doing that. You're a good friend."

"You're welcome," I replied. After a moment's pause, I decided to move on to another subject. "So, what are you going to do about JJ?"

He rested his head against the back of the couch. "She's beautiful," he said. "And she's funny, and intelligent."

"You know where to find her," I said encouragingly. "Why don't you go over to Widener and introduce yourself, properly this time. Tell her she met your evil twin; or tell her you were in the middle of…I don't know…an aneurysm or something. She'll dig that." Suddenly I had a flash of inspiration. "And take her some irises."

"Irises?" he asked blankly. "That's…random."

"No, no," I said, grabbing the phonebook to find a florist near us. "I saw her once wearing a skirt and heels." I decided to ignore the little groan that came from Ashton. "She has a tattoo – three, tall purple irises, on her lower leg."

"Shit," said Ashton. "Really?"

An hour later, he was leaving the apartment, on his way to the closest florist with irises in stock. He was nervous, but definitely in better spirits than he had been the night before. I hoped JJ would be there at work, and if she wasn't interested, would at least be kind.

When he hadn't returned two hours later, I assumed things weren't going too badly. He finally came home around 9 p.m. He was over the moon. "She's amazing," he told me. "She loved the irises; she put them in a vase on her desk. I asked her if she wanted to go out for dinner, and it turned out she was just finishing her shift so we went then. We had dinner and then we just saw there and talked and talked, for hours."

"Sounds great," I grinned at his dreamy expression.

"And then I walked her to her apartment, and I kissed her. And that's all we did – we just kissed, but…" He shook his head. "It was like nothing else. Kissing her was better than sleeping with anyone else." He flopped on the couch and heaved a long, contented sigh.

That was the beginning of Ashton's relationship with JJ. He and I still went downhill skiing on Sundays, and sometimes JJ joined us if her schedule permitted. As much as I had loved having that time with Ashton, the addition of JJ to our ski trips was entirely welcome. For one thing, she respected my friendship with him. She knew that skiing on Sundays was our thing, and always checked to make sure it was okay that she accompanied us, never simply assuming she had a standing invitation. I never once had the feeling that she resented me for the amount of time Ashton spent with me.

Friday nights she was always off work; when Ashton asked me whether I would mind if he made a standing date with her on that night, I had no hesitation in agreeing with him. In fact, I knew how unusual it was for someone to ask his best friend if it was okay to spend time with his girlfriend. The respect Ashton and I had always shown each other was simply extended to JJ, and she did the same for us.

Shortly before we each headed home for Christmas break, JJ mentioned that her parents owned a chalet in Stowe, Vermont. She had an entire weekend off in late January, she said, and suggested the three of us go up there to ski that weekend. It sounded great to us – an entire weekend literally steps from the slopes? We both agreed eagerly.

When the appointed weekend came, we left early on Friday morning. Ashton had a Nissan Pathfinder then, and we loaded it up and headed for Stowe. The weather was perfect for skiing – it had snowed heavily a few days before in Vermont, giving the machines time to groom the hills. It was just a few degrees below freezing and there was no wind – being up on one of those chair lifts when the wind is whipping around isn't fun. We couldn't wait.

The driving was good, and we made it in about three and a half hours. When we arrived, we dropped all our stuff in the chalet, bumping up the thermostat and putting away our groceries before throwing on our gear and skiing out the back yard onto the slopes. It was crazy how close we were – literally steps. We made it to the slopes around eleven o'clock that morning and stayed until the last run. That night, we all cooked dinner together in the chalet's open-concept kitchen, laughing, talking and drinking wine. By the time dinner was over, I was starting to nod off from the long day. I excused myself to go to bed.

I woke while it was still dark, jarred awake by a loud thump. I glanced at the digital clock beside my bed. 2:13 a.m. What had woken me? I sat up and listened in the darkness. I heard giggling coming from the master bedroom next to mine; it were followed shortly thereafter by soft moaning. I was surprised; usually Ashton and JJ were more discreet. I supposed all the wine the three of us had consumed with dinner had lowered their inhibitions; they surely didn't realize how loud they were.

I found myself feeling cotton-mouthed and dying for a glass of water. I quietly got out of bed and padded across the wood floor, out into the hall and down the stairs to the kitchen. I filled a glass with water and drank the whole thing; then refilled it and was on my way back to the stairs when Ashton appeared at the top step.

"Hey," he smirked. "I thought I heard you down here. Everything okay?"

"Just getting a glass of water," I said. "And a couple of prophylactic Advil so I don't feel too shredded tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, no shit," he agreed, then hesitated before speaking again. "Uh…speaking of prophylactics…I thought I had some condoms in my shaving kit, but it turns out I don't…do you have any…?"

I raised an eyebrow. I'd already been woken by him in the wee hours of the morning; now he was following me to ask if he could bum some condoms off me? Feeling a little annoyed, I nevertheless said, "In my kit bag."

"Thanks," he replied. "I'll buy some at the drugstore tomorrow and replace them."

"Don't worry about it," I mumbled, passing him on the stairs to go back to my room.

Back in bed, I lay awake for a long time, tossing and turning. I kept thinking I could hear them, though I'm sure it was my imagination. I was feeling put-upon, taken advantage of somehow, even though I was the one who had been invited to spend the weekend at this amazing chalet, free of charge. But thinking about Ashton in there – knowing that he was with JJ, and truly _with_ her…I was flooded with jealousy - hot, seething jealousy that gripped me, tearing at my heart. Worse, I was taken completely by surprise that this emotion was coming over me with regard to Ashton, my best friend – my strictly platonic, definitely-straight best friend.

It was a very long, uncomfortable night. I finally slept; but the next morning I felt as irritable as a grizzly. Ashton and JJ were already at the table eating breakfast when I came downstairs; a stack of pancakes and some bacon were keeping warm in the oven for me, and coffee was freshly brewed. They both smiled broadly at me; on their side at least, things seemed as friendly and relaxed and _normal_ as ever.

For me, though, I was anything but relaxed. Even seeing Ashton again was twisting my stomach into knots. After I had eaten my breakfast and finished my coffee mostly in silence, listening to the two of them chat, oblivious to my distress, I finally spoke up.

"I'm going to ski moguls this morning," I announced out of the blue.

Ashton looked surprised; JJ looked impressed. "Moguls?" she said with a low whistle. "Way to go, Jack! I'm not brave enough for them." She looked at Ashton. "How about you – are you going to go with Jack?"

"I can't ski moguls," Ashton replied quietly. "I hurt my knee a few years ago when I got tossed off my board; it can't handle moguls." He looked down at his coffee. "Jack knows that."

I nodded. I did know that, and it was precisely why I had announced I wanted to do them today. "I figured, you have JJ to keep you company on the slopes this morning, so I can go off for a while by myself. I've been wanting to do this." He looked up again at me, his eyes wide with…hurt? I felt a twinge of guilt at making it sound both as if he had been holding me back, _and_ that he was unable to spend a morning on his own, that he had to have a companion with him all the time.

But I also knew that I really didn't want to ski with him this morning. I had no intention of skiing moguls today – I didn't have a death wish. I simply needed time to myself; I needed to be able to think, and there was nothing like slowly gliding down an easier slope, one of the gentle, winding blue square runs, to allow me to think quietly on my own.

"Well, then, babe," JJ said to Ashton, "looks like it's you and me this morning!" She seemed unaware of his reaction to my choice of words; but as she jumped up to take her dishes to the dishwasher, Ashton looked me again with the sad surprise of one who's been attacked when they least expect it. I tossed back the rest of my coffee and took my stuff to the dishwasher as well; then excused myself to go right upstairs and get dressed.

When I came back downstairs, Ashton and JJ were getting into their pants and boots; I did the same. When we were all suited up, we stepped out onto the back porch, where our skis were stuck heel-end down in the snow beside the house. The three of us skied together to the bottom of the hill; then I began to make my way to the other lift that would take me to the mountain face with the mogul runs. Before I got too far, Ashton called, "Jack! Will we see you for lunch?"

I shrugged. "No idea! Don't wait for me. If I don't see you for lunch, I'll definitely see you at the chalet after last run." I skate-skied off before he could add anything.

Once I was out of sight, I changed course, heading to the ski lift that would take me to the long runs on the next mountain. I skied by myself the entire morning, enjoying the slow rush of the wind past my face, grateful that it was mild but cloudy, which meant I wasn't blinded by the dazzling sparkles of the sun on the snow. Fat, soft flakes of snow drifted gently down – much too slowly to cause visibility problems, just enough to look picturesque and beautiful. As I skied, I thought a lot. I asked myself why I had reacted so strongly to the knowledge that Ashton and JJ were having sex in the next room. They had been sleeping together pretty much from the beginning, and were at our apartment as often as they were at JJ's. Why was this bothering me so much? Fuck, why was it bothering me _at all_?

I took a small side-run that meandered off the main run into the woods. It was quiet and private – basically a hairpin that, after hooking around, deposited you directly back on the main run – so no one really came this way. Feeling suddenly very tired, I stopped halfway through and, kicking off my skis, flopped into the snow at the edge of the groomed path. I lay there on my back, looking up into the sky. The snowflakes were invisible against the cloudy sky until they were already quite close; then it was if they suddenly materialized only a few feet away from my face, as though the snow cloud hovered right over me. I was far enough away from the main runs that it was very quiet here; and watching the snow float gently towards me, I began to feel detached from the world.

As I lay, I thought. I thought about Ashton and all the time we had spent together over the past two years. I thought about how I had never once been jealous before, not of the time he spent with JJ, not of the times he had been with a variety of girls. What had changed?

I closed my eyes, and saw his face before me. His shaggy blond hair, his soft, compassionate light brown eyes. The smile that flashed easily and often, illuminating his entire being and drawing in those around him. His compact but strong body, zipped into a wetsuit or bare-chested as he wore those Hawaiian trunks he insisted on…my cock twitched thinking of his bare shoulders and arms, covered with that soft, downy blond hair…_oh my god. _ My heart nearly stopped, and my breathing certainly did, as the realization grabbed me. _Am I was attracted to him?_, I asked myself. Almost immediately the answer came back: _No. I'm in love with him. _

NO, my mind screamed. I did not want to be in love with my best friend, especially since I knew he was straight. I lifted my head and dropped it into the snow, over and over again, banging it against the tightly-packed snow bank. But my heart, having finally found its voice, would no longer be silent. Despite the shouts of my mind, my heart repeated, quietly and calmly, _We love him. We love him. We love him._ After my head had quieted, the beating of my heart kept up that mantra. _We love him. We love him. _Peace settled over me, drifting down as quietly as the snowflakes that landed on my cheeks.

Suddenly, a blast of snow jetted up from beside me, spraying across my chest and face. I sat up suddenly, and there was Ashton, having skidded to a stop beside me. He was perched on his skis, his ski goggles up on his head, exposing his panicked face as he peered down at me. "Ashton, what the fuck?" I spluttered, brushing the snow from my face. As I spoke, the fear faded from his face, to be replaced by a look of absolute fury.

"You're asking _me_ what the fuck?" he all but snarled. "What about you? You said you were going to ski moguls this morning. So I come over here to see how you're doing, and I can't fucking find you anywhere. I start asking around and the guy at the chairlift tells me you've been skiing the blue squares all morning. So I'm all over fuck trying to find you, and I take this side run, and see you fucking passed out at the side of the path! Jesus Christ, Jack!" He looked away, biting his lip; I was floored to see a tear slide down his face. "Fuck, I thought you were…I don't know. I thought you were dead…that you had an accident or you were attacked or something. But here you are, just fine – aside from having replaced my best friend with a jerk who lied to me and blew me off." He looked back at me, more tears spilling over – whether from relief that I wasn't dead, or anger over my actions, I couldn't say. "Why didn't you just tell me you didn't want to ski with me? And what the fuck are you doing lying in the snow?"

For a moment I couldn't speak. I never dreamed Ashton would come to check up on me, and I certainly didn't think he'd be all over the mountain looking for me. But the shocking part was seeing him in tears. He was sensitive; I knew that. But when he was upset, it normally translated into a funk; I had never seen him cry.

But he was crying…and it was because of the way he was being treated by me – the person who was supposed to be his best friend. I felt worse than I had ever felt in my life.

"Sit down?" I asked, patting the snow beside me.

He shook his head, looking away to hide his embarrassment over his tears.

"Please, Ashton," I entreated. "Let me explain."

He looked back at me, skeptical that my explanation would suffice, but he kicked his boots out of the bindings and flopped down in the snow bank beside me. "I'm listening."

I took a deep breath, steadying myself for the conversation to come. "You and I have been best friends since the day we met. And I've always been grateful for your friendship, Ashton. You didn't even blink when I told you I was gay; you listened to me about all my interests even though they weren't the things you were interested in. You ask me about my classes; it's Econ, for fuck's sake. Who else but an Econ major even cares about that stuff? But you care about it because you're my best friend. Until today, we've never had an argument or even a significant difference of opinion. You're not just my best friend in college; you're the best friend of my life."

"I don't get what this has to do with you lying to me," he said petulantly.

"Last night, I woke up and I could hear…you and JJ…in the next room…you know?" He nodded. "And then when I went downstairs for a drink, and you asked me for condoms…"

"Yeah?" he prompted.

"I…I was…" I didn't know how to continue in any way that wouldn't make me sound like me asking my best friend not to have sex with anyone else.

"Were you upset that I asked you for a condom?" he asked, puzzled.

I finally gave up and just _said_ it. "I was jealous."

"Jealous?" he asked, now completely baffled.

I nodded. "And I couldn't explain why, but I was fucking choked with it. That was the reason I wanted to be alone this morning. I needed to think."

"Wow," he said. "So…do you think you're bi, then?"

"Bi…?" I asked blankly before I realized what he thought I was saying. He thought I was jealous of him, that I wanted to be with JJ. "No, Ashton, I'm definitely not bi. I wasn't jealous _of_ you." I looked down at my hands, unable to look him in the eye. "I was jealous _because_ of you."

You know that figure of speech, _the silence was deafening_? Never in my life have I heard a silence louder than the one that followed those words. It stretched on for long minutes, until I couldn't take it any longer. I looked up to see what awaited me on Ashton's face. He was just staring at me, hard and unblinking. I said nothing.

Finally he spoke. "I need to clarify," he said slowly, "because I don't want to misinterpret your words. Are you saying that you have…feelings for me?" I nodded. "How long?"

"I just realized," I said. "Last night was the first time I've been jealous about you; maybe the first time I've ever really felt jealousy in my life. And then, today, I figured out why. Just before you covered me with snow, actually."

"I don't know what to say," he said, sounding stunned.

"I know the feeling," I replied drily. "I don't want to do anything to threaten our friendship; and if telling you makes you uncomfortable, or changes things between us, I'll never forgive myself. If you hadn't shown up now demanding an answer from me, I probably wouldn't have told you."

"Ever?" he asked incredulously, and I shook my head. "Jack, you would have just gone on having feelings for me, and never said anything? I don't believe that. You were the one who encouraged me to go after JJ when I was in despair."

"The difference," I remarked, "was that you had a _chance_ with JJ. But there's no chance for this," I said sadly. "You're straight, Ashton; and if I could have prevented myself from falling in love with a guy who's straight, I would have done anything."

"In love…" he repeated slowly. "You're in love…with me."

Abruptly, I'd had enough. Hearing him say the words seemed a great deal more than I should have to bear. I stood, pulling my skis out of the snow and snapping my boots back into the bindings. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I think I've had enough," I answered. "I'm going to ski down the mountain and head back to the other peak. I'll see you at the chalet for dinner." I left him still sitting there in the snow, thoughtfully contemplating the day's revelations.

As it turned out, I didn't see him that night. When I went up the other mountain, I only skied halfway back down, stopping in at the chalet. I packed up my equipment and my duffel bag, putting it into the Pathfinder; I left a note on the kitchen counter, telling them they could have the chalet to themselves the rest of the weekend, that I would see them back in Boston. And then I took the few items I had kept in my carry-on bag, and I walked to the village, where I bought a bus ticket back to Boston.

At around 5:30 pm, my cell phone rang. I pulled it out to look at the number; it was Ashton. He and JJ would have just arrived back at the chalet after the last run of the day. I considered ignoring it, but he deserved to at least know I was okay.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Jack," his pained voice came at the other end. "Jack, what the fuck." He sounded defeated. "You didn't have to leave."

"Yes, I did," I said. "I can't be there with the two of you now, not after today…"

"I don't understand why you're doing this," he said. "We're friends, Jack; we're supposed to be best friends."

"Can we still be best friends, Ashton?" I asked. "Can you go on as we have in the past, knowing that I'm in love with you?"

"I...I'm not sure," he said truthfully. "I think I can…"

"I'm going to ask you to give that serious thought, then," I replied. "I can; but only if I'm not always worrying that you're going to misinterpret something I'm saying; or wondering if you're uncomfortable with me." There was silence at the other end, and I knew he hadn't thought it through completely.

After a pause, he asked, "How are you travelling? You're not hitchhiking, are you?"

"No," I replied. "I'm on the bus."

He sighed. "I wish you'd waited, Jack. We could have talked about this some more tonight…"

"No," I said emphatically. "Not with JJ there; it wouldn't be fair to her, Ashton. You need to give this some thought; and then, you and I will discuss it. Only you and I."

Another sigh. "Well, it's not like I can argue now; you're already gone. Just tell me I'm not going to get home tomorrow to find that you've packed up and left the apartment."

"No, no," I assured him.

"Promise?" he asked. "You said today you'd be here at the chalet for dinner, but obviously…"

"I promise."

"Okay," he agreed. "Then I'll see you tomorrow."

"You will," I replied. "And tell JJ thanks for letting me stay; and that I'm sorry I had to leave so quickly. Tell her something came up – a paper I forgot about or something…"

"Yeah, whatever," he answered abruptly. "Bye." And the line went dead.

All the long way back to Boston, I worried whether I had done the right thing. I was being terribly selfish, there was no denying that. Could I not have stayed and pretended for the rest of the weekend? It was less than twenty-four hours, for fuck's sake. But it was far too late to change my decision. I would just have to live with the consequences now, and hope JJ and Ashton didn't judge me too harshly.

By the time I collapsed into my bed, it was after two in the morning. I was fucking exhausted and kicking myself for having taken the bus. Too tired to even put on a pair of sleep pants, I just stripped completely naked and was asleep almost before I my head hit the pillow.

I woke up at eleven, squinting at the sunshine that streamed through my bedroom window. I got out of bed to go to the bathroom, and when I was finished I went straight to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Assuming I was still home alone, I didn't bother to put any clothes on, so I was absolutely starkers when I strode through the living room into the kitchen; and still just as naked when I emerged from the kitchen, glass of water in hand, to find Ashton sitting on the armchair that was tucked into the corner of the living room.

"Jesus," I shouted, startled half to death and nearly dropping the glass on the floor. I sprinted from the living room to my bedroom and put on a pair of shorts. When I re-emerged, shamefaced, Ashton hadn't moved. A book was closed on his lap, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He looked at me bleakly.

"You're home early," I said.

"So are you," was his quietly pointed reply.

Fair enough. "When did you get here?"

"Around 10:30," he answered, looking down at the book in his lap.

"You must have gotten up pretty early," I commented.

His face was unreadable. "Well, I didn't sleep much last night."

I swallowed hard before my next question. "What did you tell JJ about leaving early?"

"That I was worried about you," he said, looking up. "She understood."

Of course she did. "She didn't mind getting up at the crack of dawn to leave?"

"Oh – no, she didn't leave," he corrected. "Maria came up last night, and JJ's going to ride back to Boston with her later today."

"So," I said, scuffing my toes on the floor, "did you tell her…about yesterday?"

"Not yet," he replied.

"Well, it's not like she needs to feel threatened by it," I said, sinking into the couch.

He didn't respond to my comment. Instead, he said firmly, "I need you to tell me why you felt you had to leave without a word and take the bus home in the middle of the day yesterday. I think you owe me that much."

"I couldn't spend the evening with the two of you; couldn't watch you with each other on the couch in front of the fire," I replied quietly. "It would have been too much for me to handle."

"Do you really think I could ever be that insensitive, Jack?" he asked, hurt clearly written on his features. "After all the time we've known each other…does that sound like me at all?"

"What was I going to do," I countered, "ask you not to enjoy the weekend with your girlfriend?"

"You wouldn't have _had_ to ask!" he shouted. "Fuck, I shouldn't have to explain this – to _you_, Jack. This is me. Didn't you think I would realize that it might be difficult for you to see us? Did it occur to you that I might spend the afternoon thinking of how a way I could explain to JJ why we shouldn't kiss in front of you, or hold hands or cuddle up on the couch?"

"No," I said quietly. "It didn't."

"No it didn't," he repeated. "Because you had your head so far up your own ass that you couldn't see anything else except running away; running away from me in the morning, running away from the chalet…you didn't give anyone a chance to help you. You didn't give _me_ a chance, Jack. You didn't trust me to be able to handle this and to be sensitive to what you're going through."

I was ashamed. It was all true, of course; and I was such an ass. I felt horrible…so much so that I put my face in my hands and began to cry. It felt like since I'd made this discovery, every instinct I'd had was dead wrong.

Ashton moved from the chair to sit beside me on the couch. He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me back to lean into him. "I'm sorry," he said. "Like you haven't already been through enough, here I am fucking yelling at you and putting you through a guilt trip."

"Don't apologize," I said into his shirt. "It's true. You're completely right, and I'm the one who should be apologizing. I'm sorry, Ashton; I took you by surprise with this, and you handled it much better than almost anyone else would have. You really are my best friend. I don't want anything to get in the way of that."

"Nothing will," he said softly. "We both just have to have a little faith."

-o-

The next few weeks passed without me seeing much of JJ. Ashton refused to lie to her about the reason why I'd left; he told her I'd had a bit of a freak-out about a personal problem I was going through, which, of course, was absolutely true. After that weekend, we were all busy with school, plus JJ had work. I saw her in passing a couple of times; and one time, she did take me aside to tell me that, though she didn't know what troubles I was having, she hoped they'd soon pass and I'd be back to my usual self. I could barely speak to thank her, and pulled her into a grateful hug.

Despite Ashton's promise that nothing would get in the way of our friendship, he was withdrawn in the weeks following Vermont. He always talked to me, of course, but often seemed as though his thoughts were somewhere far, far away. I tried to be as normal as possible, act like my usual self; I didn't want to give him any reason to be uncomfortable. Well…any _more_ reason.

As for me, my feelings did not change – not at all. Once I realized how I felt about Ashton, that was it for me; the attachment was formed, and I knew, regardless of whom else I may love in my lifetime, he would be my first love.

One night, about a month after Vermont, Ashton came home and shed his winter layers at the front door, as usual. He flung himself down on the couch, where I sat researching a paper. I looked at him for a moment; but he didn't meet my gaze, staring at the floor somewhere in the area in front of the TV.

"Ashton?" I finally said. "Are you okay?"

He was silent for a moment longer before finally speaking. "I ended things with JJ tonight."

I dropped my textbook on the floor with a loud clatter. Ashton glanced at it, then at me. "Are you going to get that?"

Ignoring his question, I said, "You _ended_ it? Why?"

He looked away again before replying, "It's complicated."

When it seemed he wasn't going to elaborate, I set the rest of my books on the floor beside the couch, and turned sideways to face him, crossing my legs in front of me. "I'm all ears," I said softly. "If you want to talk, that is."

"I've been thinking about this for a while," he said quietly. "JJ is…amazing. You know how much I think of her."

"Of course," I nodded.

"She's gorgeous, and intelligent, and so fucking funny…she's perfect," he continued. "She _should_ be perfect for me. And I do like her, a lot. That hasn't changed."

"Okay," I said slowly, really not understanding his train of thought. "So, why did you end things, then?"

"I've been doing a lot of reflection lately," he said, more quietly than ever. "Thinking about…me, about what I want." He paused. "The truth is that I've developed feelings for someone else."

Nothing he could have said would have surprised me more. Of everything I knew about Ashton, I knew he was _faithful. _My jaw dropped, and he finally looked up at me.

"I know. You're shocked, right?" he said, without the slightest hint of irony or flippancy. "I am too." He dropped his head into his hands. "I can't believe I'm doing this to JJ."

"Neither can I," I said, finally finding my voice. "You've been fucking around on her? I never would have thought it was possible, Ashton!"

"Wait," he said, looking up. "You're wrong; it's not like that."

"What's it like, then?" I demanded.

"I haven't done anything," he said firmly. "I haven't even spoken to the other person about it. I would never pursue another relationship when I was already in one."

Immediately I was relieved. _That_ was the Ashton I knew. "I believe you," I said, my voice much more calm.

"Thank you," he said gratefully. "Having your trust is important to me." I nodded, and he continued. "I've been thinking about it a lot, and realized that I want to explore the feelings I've developed for…the other person. That's why I ended it with her. I wouldn't do that while I was seeing her."

"You didn't tell her that part, obviously," I remarked.

"No," he said quietly. "I told her my feelings have changed, which is true. She was…well, she was hurt. But I don't think she was completely surprised. She said she thought recently something was up with me. She just didn't realize…" Here he choked up a bit, and I knew how this had to be eating at him, to know he had caused her pain. "She didn't realize that it would result in me breaking up with her."

He was obviously in a great deal of distress, and I couldn't just sit there and watch him go through it alone. I turned slightly so I was facing the same way he was, and I reached my arms out to him, the same way he had done that night when I needed to be comforted. He leaned into them and I pulled him close. We sat like that for some minutes; the only sound in the room was the gentle bubbling sound coming from the aquarium.

Eventually he spoke again. "She doesn't deserve to be hurt like this," he murmured. "She's sweet, and kind; we get along so well. She's pretty well perfect for me in every way…except one."

"What's that?" I asked gently.

He extricated himself from my arms and sat up to look directly into my eyes. "She's not you," he said with gentle conviction.

For the second time that night, my mouth fell open; but this time I was absolutely convinced I was dreaming. I backed away from him slowly. "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice sounding distant as my heart pounded in my ears.

"Jack, listen to me," he pleaded. "Just hear me out, please. I've been trying to tell myself that it was just the power of suggestion, knowing you had feelings for me and being afraid I'd lose your friendship." He moved a bit closer, and I found my back was now pressed against the arm of the couch; I could retreat no further. "But I know that isn't true. No matter what else, I have to be true to myself. I didn't know it until you told me how you felt about me; but the reason I got along so well with JJ was because she had all the qualities I admire in you. Only…she isn't you."

"No," I agreed, "she's certainly not. Ashton, aren't you overlooking something pretty fucking important?"

"That you're a man," he supplied.

"Well, yeah," I said. "And you're straight." He said nothing else, getting up to kneel on the couch in front of me. He took my face gently between his hands, and he kissed me – the softest, warmest, sweetest kiss I'd ever shared with anyone. His lips remained on mine for a long moment before he pulled away slightly. His breathing was heavier than normal, and his eyes bore into mine.

"Jack," he whispered pleadingly, as though urgently waiting the reply to the most vital of questions.

"Ashton," I said, before abandoning words for the pleasure of showing him. We kissed more deeply this time, my hands finding their way to the back of his neck as our tongues explored each other for the first time. When he moaned softly into my mouth, though, I stopped abruptly, pushing him away and jumping up from the couch.

"What…what's wrong?" he asked, breathing heavily now.

"I can't be the person you experiment with," I blurted. "I know who I am, Ashton, and I know what I can handle. I can't just fuck around with you while you figure out who you are." I was dangerously close to tears – my nerves and emotions having been through the wringer over the past weeks.

"Jack, Jack," he murmured as he got up to stand in front of me. "I'm not experimenting; I'm not figuring anything out. First of all, all I've done in the last few weeks is 'figure out'. I've done enough introspection to know who _I_ am, too. Remember what I said – I have to be true to myself?" I nodded. "This is who I am – I know that. And my god, Jack," he added, stroking my cheek with one hand as he held my hand in the other, "I would _never_ use you that way. You are much too important to me, to ever jeopardize your feelings."

My shoulders dropped by several inches as I released the breath I'd been holding. "Jack," he whispered, lifting his face to gently graze the tip of his nose against mine. "I love you."

"And…you're…you're gay?" I persisted, needing him to say the words.

He shone a dazzling smile at me. "I'm gay," he murmured tenderly. "I'm a great big flamer, and I love you in an entirely homosexual way." I giggled – yeah, giggled. Somehow his irreverent and not-entirely-PC declarations cleansed every bit of tension and angst from me, leaving behind reassurance and almost-giddy happiness.

"I love you too," I whispered. I slid my arms around his waist and pulled him to me, lifting his feet off the floor as I kissed him. Both of us laughed out loud when our lips met again and again, till I put him down. I backed toward the couch, leading him with me; when I'd sat down, I pulled him to me so he sat straddling my legs, his ass resting on my lap. I was filled with pure joy as we kissed, full and passionate. I never imagined this – could not have foreseen just an hour ago how radically my life would change. Ashton, disclosing me to me that he was gay; and further, that he was in love with me? It seemed unfathomable. And yet I trusted Ashton implicitly. He was the personification of honesty for me; he was the standard to which I hoped to hold myself.

The flame between us burned hotter and brighter; our kisses became long, deep explorations that meandered from lips, down necks, along collarbones. Shirts were removed and tossed to the floor. Bare, smooth chests pressed and rubbed together. Hard nipples were caressed, licked, sucked. Soft moans became frantic, pleading gasps. Rigid shafts were stroked and grasped through soft worn denim. Belts were removed and jeans discarded. Underwear were lowered slowly, teasingly, over slim hips, sweet, tight asses and swollen cocks. Hands and eyes explored, finding and committing to memory every curve, every freckle, every sweet spot.

I picked him up and he wrapped his legs around me. I carried him to my bedroom, where I laid him down on my bed. Seeing him there, stretched out naked on my bed, his beautiful cock so hard and swollen…_for me_…was one of the best moments of my life. I groaned at the sight of him, and he smiled broadly at me.

I knelt between his legs, taking in the beauty of him for a moment before lowering my head to take him in my mouth. His hands came up to stroke my hair. "Oh god," he sighed after a few moments, "you're good at this."

I merely grinned, unwilling to give up my sucktoy. I went down on him over and over; his sighs grew to moans, escalating in intensity and desire. I grabbed the lube bottle from my night table and squeezed out a bit on my finger. I massaged the skin around his anus with the lube, pushing in gently a couple of times. Each time I entered him, he gasped – not a gasp of pain or apprehension, but of intense pleasure. Soon his entire body tensed, his cock grew harder and he grunted, "Fuck…I'm coming."

I released his cock from my mouth just long enough to whisper, "Let it go," and I eased a second finger into him. His head thrashed from back and forth before he let go with a loud wail, just as the first jet of his hot jizz hit the back of my throat. I swallowed it, and every drop that followed, lapping them up like the nectar I'd been craving for so long. He bucked and thrust, his hands wound as much as they could be in my short black hair.

When his orgasm subsided, I released him and slid up beside him. His eyes were still screwed shut, his mouth open as he continued a series of small moans. Finally he took one deep breath, relaxing his entire body as he blew out. He turned to look at me, and I smiled at his beatific expression. "Thank you," he breathed, turning onto his side to move in close to me. "Thank you, thank you."

"You're welcome," I murmured. "Have you ever had anything in your ass before?"

"No, never," he shook his head.

"Was it okay?" I asked.

"Okay? It was _amazing_," he said rapturously. "I had no idea it would feel so good."

"Well, if you think that was good…" I began, then stopped. He might not be ready for that – I didn't want to pressure him. Hell, maybe he was a top.

"What?" he pressed.

"I was going to say, you'll love getting fucked in the ass…but I was being presumptuous. If you're not ready, or if you don't want to bottom, it's okay," I told him reassuringly.

"No!" he protested. "You're not being presumptuous at all. Actually, you were saying what I was thinking."

"Really?" I pressed. "You're certain?"

"I want your cock in me; I need it. Please, Jack," he pleaded. "You're the first person I've ever said, 'I love you,' to. I want you to be the one who takes me in the ass for the first time."

His encouragement was so earnest and so throaty; he was so fucking desirable lying there pressing his slim body against mine – there was no way I could turn him down. Fortunately, nor did I want to. I was still rock-hard, not having been given my release yet. He shifted, rolling to his back and lifting his knees so the bottoms of his feet lay on the bed. "I'm yours, Jack. I'm already yours. Come take what belongs to you."

In a flash I was on my knees, grabbing a condom from my night table and rolling it on. I put more lube on and inside him, my cock twitching every time he moaned when my fingers slid inside him; then coated the condom well. When we were both prepared, I bent over him and kissed him tenderly. "Are you ready?" I whispered.

"So ready," he replied. "I love you, Jack."

"I love you too," I murmured. "You have to tell me if I'm hurting you, okay?" He nodded. I began to kiss him deeply, our tongues dancing a slow repartee; as we did, I held the base of my cock and began to push into him. He gasped a couple times – each time, I stopped moving except to continue our sweet kisses, until he relaxed and adjusted around me – then I would slowly press forward again. It was a slow, torturously-pleasurable process; when I was in him as deep as I could go, I lowered my whole body to his and just kept kissing him, not thrusting or moving in him at all. He wrapped his legs around me, his hips shifting from side to side as he writhed beneath me.

When he tilted his pelvis toward me then pulled it away slightly, I knew he was ready for me to continue. I started slowly thrusting into him, still kissing his soft warm lips. Being inside him was like the warmest, tightest embrace – I never wanted to leave that loving, safe place. Our bodies moved with one accord, gliding, pressing against each other. His body beneath mine, together we ascended, each plateau more dizzying than the last, urging each other ever higher. Almost simultaneously we reached our peak, and together we hurled ourselves into wide open space. Tumbling, flying, hurtling, soaring, we came together, crying out, each of us reflecting the other's delight and amplifying our mutual pleasure.

When our peak was behind us, when I had thrown out the condom and we lay entwined under my quilt, exchanging tender caresses and whispering words of love, what was remained with us was love, glowing bright and warm within us. Ashton and I started out as best friends; I knew now that we could never lose that. We risked it all by gambling on love; and in the end, we beat the house.

-o-

"The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become." – Charles DuBois

-o-

**So you see what I'm saying, yes? About how AU this is? If this had happened, there might not have been a Jack & Jacey. Hell, there might not have been an Edward & Jasper of OTT, since it was Jack's experience with unrequited love that prompted his advice to Jasper, and helped Jasper decide to give Edward another chance. Also, in DD canon, Jack didn't realize he was in love with Ashton until after they'd graduated and moved to Seattle.  
**

**When **_**dellaterra**_** commissioned this story, and after it was completed, we decided by mutual agreement that it would be kept private until DD was substantially completed. It was a great pre-DD exercise since it helped me establish a great deal of Jack's backstory before I even started writing DD. Since we're in the midst of a DD hiatus, I thought it was a good time to post it publicly, and **_**dellaterra **_**graciously agreed. I hope you enjoyed this look at what could have been, in another time and place. **


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